The Tale of Two Soldiers
by Listae
Summary: They were kids, then they were men, but most of all they were soldiers. Until most of all they were in love. Dean/Cas Military AU.


**I saw Destiel Navy/Air Force prompt on tumblr and this happened. Enjoy!**

I

The first time I saw him we were just kids. Now that I remember it, it seems surreal. We were just 2 teenagers, blissfully ignorant and freer than we ever will be later on in our lives. Ironically, I met him in a military camp my father sent me to 'toughen up'. He's marine, and so am I, now, but back then I was just a 17 year old kid who'd do anything to keep his dad happy.

Keeping him happy… I tried all the sports my dad liked – baseball, football and wrestling – and hated them all. I stuck to football, because that's what real men do and so how could I not? Did it please my dad? Maybe. Did he ever tell me that? No. What he did tell me was to get a grip and train hard, because marines are not for pussies and his son is sure as hell not going to be one. Instead, from the age of 10 until I got into army my days always started the same – at 5.30 am I ran 5 miles to warm up and then 1 hour combat and muscle training with my dad. At school on the off season I'd train 3 times a week and daily sessions during the season. So by the age of 17 when I first met him, I was strong, fast and bursting with self confidence and bravado.

And of course Cas outran me that first time we were put on track together. Jesus, he was fast! All 6 feet of muscle, coiled tight and then released on the track. I was amazed. He was awesomeness incarnated – the way he moved, his muscles rippling beneath his sweaty skin, all efficiency and speed. I think that first time I lost so spectacularly because I spent half the race gaping at his back and thighs and fuck – that ass! Years of not looking at any guy twice and there I was – gaping like a fucking moron. I remember him laughing when I finally got to the finish line and I remember being freakin' terrified because he was beautiful, because I wanted him and because the sound of his laughter made me warm inside.

We were friends. I think on some level we always knew this was the only way for us to be close to each other, so almost from the start we were friends. He was always by my side – at the morning run, at breakfast, at shooting range, at dinner, but most of all – at combat training. I kept getting into trouble with other kids because of my smart mouth I didn't yet know how to keep shut at that time. Cas was like me – military kid – but the others were mostly sent by desperate parents who had no idea what to do with their troubled teens. They were disappointed, lonely and betrayed, but back then I only saw them as angry. And there was no better place to let all that anger out as combat training. I was strong and I knew how to hold my own, but that never stopped Cas from watching over me. He saved my ass so many times I can't even count, more often than not getting his ass handed to him in the process. We were only in that camp for four short weeks, but by the end of first week he was my best friend. It's been over ten years since that summer and I had great friends in between, but he's still the best friend I ever had.

He didn't talk much. He wore the ever serious expression on his face and he only smiled his small smiles now and then. He'd laugh with me sometimes and it made me ridiculously proud to have caused these laughs. I told him about my family and my friends. I think I must've bored him to death with my stories about Sammy, but he never complained once. Instead he listened to my ever word with unwavering attention, smiling his discreet smiles at our antics. I told him about my dad, how he was a marine and how I was going to be one too. He asked me then if it was what I wanted and it made me both happy and sad that he was the only one to ever care enough to ask. I told him about Lisa – my sort of girlfriend and a daughter of dad's marine pal. I remember him looking at me for a long time, staring at me even with his peculiar head tilt until he finally smiled and told me he hoped Lisa's great and that she's making me happy. That was the first time I wanted to kiss him so much it physically hurt me. I didn't, of course, but now I wonder if he wanted me to.

He told me about his family – his 3 brothers and a sister, all older than him, all in military too. They were all in air force, just like his father. He told me about his father, who spent so much time deployed, that he barely knew him at all. His brothers raised him, but he didn't share fond memories and although I didn't know it then, now I think he simply didn't have them. He spoke about Gabriel, his closest brother, who'd been deployed for last several years. He spoke with such fervent longing that all I wanted to do was hug him and hold him close. I couldn't stop myself and he'd actually let me. Even that first time having him in my arms felt like home.

We didn't have time. Four short weeks with days filled with training and fighting and running all the time. Four weeks of nights full of sneaking out, sitting together side by side, feeling each other's warmth and whispering jokes and stories to each other. We knew that once our time was over we won't see each other again. We were dangerous together. This unspoken feeling between us, this connection that could burn and destroy us was too big to keep hidden any longer. Four weeks and then we'd each go our separate ways.

It never felt more real than in those few last nights. We snuck out and sat together under a tree, not even talking much, just feeling our connection burn between us. I remember reaching out and brushing my fingertips across the back of his hand. I blushed furiously, excited and terrified all at once, but happy the darkness would hide my nervous embarrassment. I shouldn't have been worried, because all Cas did was flip his hand over opening his palm to thread our fingers together. We sat like that for what felt like hours, holding hands and not speaking about it, as if our silence could reduce the massive something hovering over our heads. Something that even then felt very much like love.

We agreed not to call or write to each other. It was too dangerous – my father and his brothers could never know about this forbidden connection we had between us. He was to join Air Force, I had my path cleared for the Marines – there was no place in our lives for something as insignificant as love. Especially a kind of love that could burn us down. And it didn't matter that we both had tears in our eyes when we agreed to never see each other again. It didn't matter that we clung to each other harder that last night. It didn't matter that I kissed him for the first time then and he kissed me back and we both felt salt on our lips from the tears that refused to be bitten back. I remember hugging him before going to our separate bedrooms that night. I remember holding him close and feeling my heart break, because I wouldn't be able to hug him goodbye tomorrow when my dad came to pick me up. Real men don't hug each other.

I chanced one glance back as we were driving off. He stood there watching me go; his face expressionless and hard that I now know meant he was in pain. I didn't look back again, but for years to come that face haunted me – emotionless blue of his eyes, lips pressed into a hard line, his hair messed up, his skin pale despite the summer sun. We were 17 and we were in love.

II

I was 24 when I saw him again. I was Sergeant of the 2nd Marine division and after my last deployment to Afghanistan I had been located in Camp Lejuene in Jacksonville, NC for the last six months. Bravo Company of 1st Battalion 8th Marines that I served in was moved to Camp Parks of Parks Air Force Base for six week training and although the chances were slim to none, I still hoped that by some miracle I'd see my friend again.

It's been years that I stopped thinking about him, not consciously anyway, but I still tensed at the mention of Air Force or whenever the casualties there were reported. I still dreamt of him though. Those quiet times, just sitting together under the tree. They say you don't forget your first love and I certainly didn't.

When I first saw him in his uniform with 2nd Lieutenant Insignia, I stopped dead in my tracks. He'd grown. He wasn't taller, not by much anyway, but he'd filled out. When I first met him he was all lean muscles and coiled strength. He was still lean, especially compared to some of his fellow officers, but he'd filled out. My mouth went very dry as I watched him go talking to other pilots and calmly giving orders. He hadn't seen me yet, so I watched him, careful as ever, to notice all the details in which he was no longer the friend I had, but instead I noticed all the ones that still made him that friend. Sometimes I think he felt my gaze on him, because he stopped abruptly and turned back to catch my eyes. We stared at each other for long seconds and as sentimental and stupid as it sounds I swear my heart stopped and then restarted itself when he offered me one of his small smiles. He excused himself and I remember grinning stupidly as he jogged to me. I saluted him and he dismissed it, instead extending his hand and gripping mine tightly. He muttered my name then, in that special way he always did and I felt warm all over. For long seconds none of us noticed that we were still holding each other's hands. I remember that when we finally let go, both blushing and embarrassed, he smiled at me, eyes crinkling in the corners. I remember thinking he was beautiful. I think conventionally he'd be considered handsome – strong jaw line, piercing blue eyes, high cheekbones, but to me he was beautiful, because I could always see the softness of him he kept hidden from everyone else. I remember loving that side of him just as much as his strong, badass side.

It didn't take us long to reconnect. That very first night we went out drinking in the camp's only bar. It was full to the brim, but it didn't stop us from finding the corner of our own, getting beers and sharing the stories of the 7 years apart. I told him about my marines' career, about my deployment to Afghanistan and the earlier one to Iraq. I've been lucky on both of them – I never actually experienced war first hand. Sure, I saw the devastation and scars of it plenty, but I was never in active combat. Cas seemed relieved to hear that, but couldn't offer similar stories of his own. He'd been sent to hot spots of the conflict zones from the day he finished his training as a pilot. He was a career officer and his oldest brother Michael made sure he had plenty opportunities to show his prowess and so speed up his career. He didn't want to tell me much, but from the dejected expression he wore when speaking of the war, I got what he was trying not to say. He was 24 and he was already in line for 1st Lieutenant – I don't even want to imagine what he went through.

He asked me about Lisa then, but I just shook my head. I hadn't been able to carry on with the charade of teenage love after I returned from that camp. There'd been others, of course. Mostly drunken one night stands, a small handful of men, even, and I've been in love once. Ironic, how the only other person I ever loved was named Cassie… I didn't tell him any of this and he didn't ask. I'm sure he had similar stories, but I never wanted to know them.

We didn't have much time, again. My days were filled with training, he was preparing for his newest deployment he couldn't even discuss. Some nights we went to that bar, speaking of small things and big things, drinking beer and letting our thighs touch under the bar. I remember being happy at his side, I remember wanting it to last and I remember being terrified all the time.

Only once did our days off fall under same days. Cas asked me if I wanted to spend that day with him – he'd show me around Dublin, Ca. where the base was located and I could spend the night in his apartment in town. I remember him being nervous and excited all at once when he asked me and it made the fucking butterflies flutter in my stomach.

There's not much to see in Dublin, but Cas dutifully showed me Sports Park, local church, main square, park and even drove by Santa Rita Jail, giving small commentaries and stories about what happened there. We both thrummed with frantic energy when he drove us to the local diner. When we were kids I'd told Cas I loved diner food and although not a big fan of fried foods, Cas loved burgers. He remembered and it made me feel closer to him than ever. We got a corner booth there and that gave us a chance to sit closer together, to lean into each other and even to steal food of each other's plates. I will always think of it as our first date.

He took me to his home then and we sat together in his small apartment, on his couch, sipping beer and finally free to touch each other as we pleased. Nothing has ever grounded me as much as the feeling of his hands on me – the hand on my shoulder, fingertips brushing against my spine, tentative hand on my thigh. I couldn't hold back anymore – I kissed him for what it's worth, pouring my longing and all the confessions I couldn't make into that kiss.

He took me to his bed then and he made love to me. It's fucking sentimental; to remember it that way, but there are no other words to describe his mouth mapping every inch of my skin, his hands gripping my hips frantically, his teeth leaving marks on my shoulders as he pushed into me again and again until we both moaned our release, still mindful of being quiet, because this secret between us, this connection could still burn us.

He left one week before my training was over. He found me the evening before and stood in the shadows with me as I stood watch. It still made sense to let it be the end of it, but this time neither of us could bring ourselves to draw that final line. Instead, we promised to call. Chancing to write a letter was too risky – our conference was monitored randomly and we couldn't risk it. Calls were dangerous too, but it was the only way, the only chance to keep in touch. We've only been here for five weeks, merely a handful of stolen nights together and yet he was so deep under my skin I could hardly make myself let go when the time came. This time I watched him walk away to yet another dangerous mission with heavy heart and tongue bitten down. This time he looked back and I saw the same longing written in the lines of his face. We never said it, but it wasn't any less real. We were 24 and we were still in love.

III

It took us 3 years to get our holidays at the same time. 2 weeks in June, it's all we got. I promised to spend a week of that with Sam in Stanford. He had passed his bar a year ago, but decided to stay while his girl, Jess, finished her studies. Even then I was pretty sure he'd marry that girl and he'd be filthily, unimaginably happy with her. I couldn't have wished for anything better for him – he'd escaped this military destiny and he was happy doing what he loved – I never wanted anything more for my little brother.

Sam knew at once I was going to see someone special that second week. He badgered me mercilessly, asking who the lucky girl who'd tamed me was. I remember the sour taste of bile in my throat every time I referred to Cas as 'her'. 'She is beautiful' and 'she's special, alright' and 'she's what I want'… I lied and evaded, but most of all I felt like a coward and a traitor.

Cas spent that first week with Gabriel, who had decided not to return to the Air Force after his latest deployment, where he met and had fallen for Kali, his now wife.

The second week of our holidays Cas and I went to Yellowstone. We discussed it a lot. Was it safe for us? If somebody saw us traveling together it might've meant a heap of problems for the both of us. But in the end we wanted to be a little reckless, we wanted to sit under the sky at night and be able to hold each other. It'd been 3 years since I last laid my hands on Cas, so when I finally got to him, nothing could've kept me away.

I remember that week as the happiest one in my life. For that short while I had everything I had ever wanted – the person I loved more than anything, the safety of his arms, the heat of his body that never failed to ignite me. He whispered his love into my skin – not with words or promises, but with reverent slide of his mouth and tongue, with soft touches and caresses, with bruising grip and dominating thrusts. I remember wishing that I could have taken him to Sam, because there was nothing more that I wanted than to show everyone he was mine.

There was always a part of me, a big part of me that shied away from these feelings. My dad had always said that real men don't let stupid emotions overwhelm them. I think he tried to protect me – he had been broken under the weight of the loss of my mother and I think he wanted me to be stronger than that. Instead he created a part of me that always thought there was something wrong with me for wanting Cas that much, for hurting when he was not close to me and for craving his touch. I don't like my father very much for that, but real men don't whine and they don't want to hide from the world just because their loved ones had to go back across the country to their own lives. Real men don't cry. So what am I, if I couldn't hold back tears as I kissed him goodbye and as I wiped away his tears? We were 27 and we loved each other.

IV

We chanced discreet letters and more phone calls after that. We had never told each other we loved one another, but it was there in every line and every word. It was there in ever sigh and every deep breath. We spoke about families and plans, about holidays and brothers. Sometimes, when we were feeling bold, we talked about the future. I told him I always dreamed of a small house, a garden for my other half to work in and a quiet job at the garage. Cas told me he had always wanted to fly, he had just never wanted to be a soldier. Instead he dreamt of quiet life of civic flight instructor somewhere warm. We didn't talk about it, but I know we both slotted our futures together in our heads and dreamt of the times when we no longer were soldiers. When we could come home to one another and fight like normal people about socks and groceries and taxes. We'd have make up sex then and stay in bed like there was no tomorrow.

I once told Cas about the guy in my company that had let slip he was gay. He was discharged soon after, but not before he had to endure insults and stupid jokes about how everyone should keep their backs to the wall when the guy was around. Or how a mouth was a mouth, so if he was so desperate for the cock, somebody could volunteer. Cas was silent through all this, but when he spoke, the only thing he said was that he hoped these were not the people he was fighting for.

We had met 2 times in 2 years that followed our holidays together. 2 short meetings filled with needy hands and frantic kisses and longing looks and whispered promises. I never told him I loved him, but he knew. He never told me, but I also knew. I sometimes think we couldn't tell each other, because we always walked away and neither of us thought that's what love was meant to be. We were wrong though, because it's been 12 years and we loved each other still.

V

I was on my vacations visiting Sam when I heard the news. Cas had been deployed in Afghanistan again, so I couldn't see him. Instead I went to Sammy to hear that he'd finally manned up and proposed to Jess. They were both so happy, so truly happy that I couldn't find it in me to resent them even a little bit. I missed Cas all the more when seeing the happy couple, but I was happy for them.

We were watching the news on the second day of my stay when a breaking news section came up. The plane had been hit in Afghanistan and the crew was not yet found.

I remember watching it numbly, unable to breathe, unable to hear anything through the pounding 'no, no, no!' in my head. Sam asked me something, but I just sat there praying it was not Cas' plane, praying he was alive and alright and that he'd call me and tell me this was all a horrible coincidence. Instead I heard Colonel Barnes confirm Major Castiel Novak's plane has been shot down and the whereabouts of the crew were as of yet unknown.

I don't remember much of the days that followed. I spent almost the entire time either in a small guest bedroom Sam had given me or on the phone with everyone I knew in Air Force trying to get more information. Sam was giving me these sad puppy dog eyes, no doubt thinking it was an army buddy I was freaking out about, but I couldn't bring myself to even say his name out loud, sure I'd snap and break down if I tried to explain Sam what exactly was going on.

I had to go back to the base by the end of the week, with still no news about Cas. It took another two weeks for the call to come through, two weeks of terrifying dreams and numbing days were nothing could get through to me. I answered the phone being pretty sure it was Sam to give me the news that would finally break the thread of hope I was desperately hanging by, but instead I heard a gravely voice whispering apologies for having me worried. My legs gave out at that and I slid down by the wall clutching the phone tightly and repeating his name again and again.

We met not long after and the first thing I told Cas when I saw him was that I loved him. He still had his arm in the cast, so he gave me his one armed hug and whispered his love into my neck. We were 30 and we finally named our love.

VI

Tomorrow everything is going to change. Tomorrow nothing is going to change. I haven't returned back to the marines after my latest term and I'm not going to. I have a job interview with a security firm in San Francisco in a week and I'm pretty sure I'm going to get it. Even if not, I have more than enough saved by now, even with the mortgage payment for our new house.

Cas is coming home tomorrow. Today is his last day in Air Force and he'll be here tomorrow. He has already accepted an offer to become flight instructor and he's looking into possibilities to extend his pilot's license to work in domestic airlines. I'm sure he'll do it in no time – the dude's crazy smart.

Sam is coming too, together with his wife, and Gabriel and Kali, but they don't know yet. Nobody does, and tomorrow it's going to change.

After tomorrow I'll never have to call Cas 'she'. There'll be no more stupid gay jokes, no more 'she's awesome'. I know that our fathers will never accept this and they more likely than not will stop talking to us for good, but tomorrow I will hold his hand and I'll tell everyone that this guy there is amazing and that he has my heart.

I'll tell everyone that he's a pilot, that he's badass and that he's mine.


End file.
